Chords of Memory
by E. Wallace
Summary: A first meeting story.


Chords of Memory  
By E. Wallace  
2000

"Humpf," Jean-Luc Picard muttered, "the wonders of 24th century technology indeed."

There were half a dozen possibilities that he could think of as to why the power had just gone out, leaving an entire neighborhood of houses and apartments in darkness. It wasn't necessary to ponder any of them since there was nothing he could do about it, but it was the sort of thing he did anyway. A first officer had to have some idea of what the crew was doing during a crisis so that he could offer the captain as many options as possible to assist in making decisions.

_'It's going to be interesting to be on the other side of that equation from now on,'_ he thought, briefly fingering the shiny new pip that rested lightly on his collarbone. He had no idea how much it actually weighed but had felt quite heavy when Admiral Marley put it there this afternoon.

Dimly flickering lights brought him back to the present as residents caught off guard by the sudden darkness began stumbling through their homes with candles and palm beacons.

Hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the chill breeze that had swept in off of San Francisco Bay as evening fell. The wind he didn't mind, but he was glad that the usual damp fog hadn't rolled in as well. He continued to move along the path, his pace not slowing to give his eyes time to adjust to the low level of light provided by the half moon in the star filled sky. He knew the way, and he was already late.

Late to meet the latest woman in Jack Crusher's life. Granted, this one had lasted longer than any of the others, which said a lot for her. Jack swore he was being completely impartial when he described his Beverly as half saint, half angel with the temper of a devil. Jean-Luc had heard adolescents in the throes of their first crush babble less. Picard sighed trying to curb his cynical tendencies. His friend was happy and that was what counted.

He rounded the corner of the apartment complex that was his destination, scanning the shadowed doorways as he tried to remember if it was the third or fourth one down. Focused entirely on his mission, he never saw... whatever it was blocking the path.

A split second after he felt something catch him just below the knees, he found himself in a pitched battle with gravity as he fought to maintain his balance. He lost with a resounding thud, landing hard on his left side.

The something made a very strange sound.

Picard kept a wary eye on the object as he moved gingerly to a sitting position, favoring his hip where he was certain he could feel a bruise blossoming out from the point of contact.

The sound came again. He decided it was a moan, and the something was a person.

A woman to be precise.

She turned toward him, and he found himself hoping that it was the moonlight making her face appear so pale and that she wasn't as young as she looked. Finely sculpted cheekbones emphasized light colored eyes that he decided were more likely blue rather than gray. He couldn't make the same determination about her hair -- dark blonde, light brown, maybe even red. She had apparently planned ahead for the change in the weather wearing pants and long sleeves in some dark material. She sat up, wincing as she moved her right leg.

"I think I twisted my ankle."

At least, that's what he assumed she said. It was the best translation he could manage since the second, fourth and seventh syllables were inaudible and the remainder had been rasped out in a voice so hoarse that he doubted she would be able to say much else.

It was a marginal reassurance that she was merely ill. He had been afraid she was a drunken cadet, which could have resulted in an awkward situation that he didn't care to deal with.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked, moving to kneel in front of her.

She shook her head then groan again indicating that the action, while a necessary response, had been uncomfortable in the extreme. He wasn't yet sure that the pain stemmed from her illness rather than an injury but decided to address the one he knew she had.

He gingerly took hold of her leg, feeling her flinch as his fingers explored her ankle. She bit her lip as he found a particularly tender spot. He could feel a slight swelling already beginning within her short, flat heeled boot.

The lights chose that moment to flare brightly to life making them both blink against the sudden assault on their vision. Once the spots had ceased their merry dance before his eyes he got a good look at her.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Bright spots of feverish color brushed across her cheeks, her red locks were as thick as his brown hair was thin. Even ill she had a regal air about her... and she was little more than a child.

She arched a graceful eyebrow at his unconcealed evaluation.

He cleared his throat guiltily. "Did you fall? When the lights went out? Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

She raised her hand, extending her index finger upward and nodded. The movement was smaller and obviously less painful than her previous negative reply. She held up a second finger, nodded again then raised a third finger and nodded a final time.

It took him a moment to realize she was answering his questions. He offered an approving smile at her ingenuity.

"Do you live near here?"

That required more of an answer so she croaked out, "216 A."

_'216 A? She can't be...'_

"Are you Beverly? Beverly Howard?"

She peered at him, knowing he couldn't possibly have deduced her name from the negligible information he had been given. Unless...

Dropping her forehead on the arm that rested on one raised knee, her request came out more as a prayer for deliverance. "Please, for my sake, either tell me you're **not** Jean-Luc Picard or just shoot me now."

"Sorry to disappoint you on both counts, but I am Jean-Luc Picard, and I don't have a phaser on me. Besides, you'd probably be more comfortable dying in your own bed than out here on the street. Can you stand?"

She nodded morosely, letting him help her up as she favored her injured leg. A single attempt to put weight on it made it clear to both of them that she wasn't going to be able to walk. She slumped against him, and he was almost certain she didn't hear his breath catch when his arms went around her, bringing them into even closer contact.

Doing his best to remember she was Jack's girlfriend, he scooped her into his arms and countered her squeaking protest with a small chuckle. "I know Jack wanted us to meet, but he was probably thinking more along the lines of a handshake rather than a physical assault."

Beverly made a face at him but began to relax as she realized he had a halfway decent sense of humor... for someone his age. It seemed she had also caught him before the pomposity of being a newly promoted captain had set in. That was a major point in his favor.

They covered the short distance to the apartment quickly, and since she had the only free hand Beverly rang the door chime.

Picard would forever wish he had a holo of the look of consternation on Jack's face when he opened the door to see his girlfriend being carried by his best friend.

"As a semi-official representative of Starfleet," he intoned with mock formality, deliberately mangling the formal announcement, "I regret to inform you that I come bearing the body of Beverly Howard."

*****  
*****

Jean-Luc Picard had relived every moment of that encounter a hundred times in the last three grim days. The most insignificant details were etched in his mind, remembering how he and Jack had teased Beverly about being a terrible patient when she wasn't even a full-fledged doctor yet. She had easily treated her ankle, but the case of Gizhan flu she had picked up at the clinic where she was training could only be suffered through.

It was a warm, familiar memory that would forever be overshadowed by what was going to happen in the next few minutes.

Tugging at his uniform top, he reached out and pressed the door chime. He could hear her approaching the door, talking to someone, probably the boy.

"Jean-Luc! What are you doing here?" Beverly smiled affectionately at him until she realized he wasn't smiling back. "What is it? Where's Jack?"

"On behalf of Starfleet Command," he began thickly, "I regret to inform you..."

The End


End file.
